


Just A Spark

by MyChemicalRachel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Asexual Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Stiles is a Spark, Stork - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-11 21:27:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5642584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyChemicalRachel/pseuds/MyChemicalRachel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A bird, okay? I heard something on my balcony and when I went out to see what it was, this giant ass pelican dropped the kid and flew away.”<br/>Stiles feels frozen again for a moment before a grin forms on his lips and he’s clutching the baby to his chest, shaking with laughter. “You’re telling me a stork brought you a little werewolf child?”<br/>Derek frowns, folding his arms stubbornly across his chest. “I told you you wouldn’t believe me,” He grumbles.<br/>“Oh no,” Stiles says, trying to catch his breath and talk between spurts of giggles. “I totally believe you. That’s just fucking hilarious.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just A Spark

When Stiles receives a very panicked text from an equally panicked werewolf, he thinks the threat to rip his throat out might actually be real this time. So he doesn’t waste any time in throwing shoes on and racing to his jeep, the absolute worst scenarios playing through his mind. And yeah, maybe he’s overreacting but when Derek texted him saying, ‘ _911 GET YOUR ASS HERE NOW_ ,’ Stiles couldn’t help but think the worst.

When he throws the jeep into park, reaching the apartment in record time, he barely has time to pull the keys out of the ignition before he’s running. And Stiles doesn’t stop running until the door to Derek’s apartment is swinging open in front of him. That’s when he skids to a complete stop, almost tripping himself, frozen in place. He doesn’t know whether he should laugh hysterically or panic just like Derek had when he sees the tiny blanket bundled in Derek’s arms. The older man paces. His eyes are a piercing red but his features are still human, a picture of pure fear. Stiles, still unsure what exactly is going on, settles with openly gaping for a long minute, trying to absorb what’s in front of him, before his eyes dart up to meet Derek’s. “Where the hell did you get baby?”

Derek doesn’t even blink when he says, “Walmart. I picked it up on my way home from work.” It takes Stiles a second to realize he’s being sarcastic. And then he’s rushing forward, taking the baby out of Derek’s werewolf grip, nearly dropping the poor thing when tiny gold eyes blink up at him. But just as quick, the color is gone and they’re back to a normal honey brown.

“Holy shit,” Stiles murmurs. He almost breaks his neck, spinning to gape at Derek again. “You saw that, right?”

Derek bites down not so gently on his lip, nodding frantically. “That’s why I called you,” and then unnecessarily adds, “It’s a werewolf.”

Stiles fidgets nervously, bouncing the bundle up and down a bit. It’s previous sounds of discontent fade into small coos as it snuggles into the blanket, letting loose an adorable yawn. “Holy hell, you moron. Have you ever heard of a condom?”

Derek has the nerve to actually look offended. “It’s not mine, dumbass. I found it.”

“Found it where?” Stiles absently wonders if the little werewolf in his arms is a boy or girl so they can stop calling them _it_. But they have bigger issues here, as Derek still hasn’t answered the question. “Dude, seriously. Is it like a dumpster baby? An alley? Your doorstep? Where did you get them?”

Derek looks constipated when he shakes his head. “You won’t believe me.”

“I’m standing in your apartment holding a tiny werewolf child,” Stiles retorts dryly. “Humor me.”

And Derek does. “A bird, okay? I heard something on my balcony and when I went out to see what it was, this giant ass pelican dropped the kid and flew away.”

Stiles feels frozen again for a moment before a grin forms on his lips and he’s clutching the baby to his chest, shaking with laughter. “You’re telling me a stork brought you a little werewolf child?”

Derek frowns, folding his arms stubbornly across his chest. “I told you you wouldn’t believe me,” He grumbles.

“Oh no,” Stiles says, trying to catch his breath and talk between spurts of giggles. “I totally believe you. That’s just fucking hilarious.”

To his surprise, Derek’s frown deepens. “Little child, big wolf ears,” He says. “You can’t cuss.”

Stiles just rolls his eyes. “Dude, it can’t even crawl yet. I don’t think it’s gonna start spewing out bad words anytime soon.” He moves over to the bed, lying the tiny child in the center of the mattress.

Derek follows apprehensively. “What are you doing?” He asks when Stiles starts unwrapping the baby.

“I’m checking to see what it is,” Stiles says. “And maybe see if there’s a return address.”

Derek can’t tell if he’s kidding or not, so he remains silent, just watching. The baby squirms a little at being freed from the blanket. It’s not wearing anything underneath but a simple cloth diaper, wrapped tightly and pinned. Stiles peeks into the diaper. “Girl,” He informs Derek. Stiles is just about to wrap her up again when he stops. “What the…?” He runs the tip of his finger across the top of the cloth diaper, where something is stitched into the fabric. “Holy shit.”

Derek sort of wants to berate Stiles for cursing again, but he leans closer to see for himself what he looking at. And his mouth falls open with the same words because right there, sewn onto the diaper, it reads, “ _Cesia Stilinski-Hale._ ”

…

Stiles is pacing the floor. He’s got his hands twisted in his hair, muttering to himself, words and phrases that sound like a different language. The baby is asleep in the middle of a fort Stiles made on the bed, piling blankets around every side in case she rolls over. Derek doesn’t think she will. She’s so new, so small and fresh. He can smell it on her, how young she really is. He doesn’t think she’s quite capable of moving off of her back yet, but he lets Stiles pile the blankets anyway, letting him protect the child. _Their_ child? Holy shit…

Derek doesn’t pace. He kind of wants to. A small part of him wants to run away from his problems and not return until the baby is back where she belongs, but his wolf is demanding he stay put. And so he does.

“I need to call Deaton,” Stiles says suddenly. Derek is kind of surprised, this having been his first English words in what must have been an hour. But he’s even more surprised by Stiles’ conclusion.

“What is Deaton going to do?” Derek asks. “We should call your dad. He’s the Sheriff, he can give her to the right authorities.”

Stiles gives Derek a blank look that undoubtedly conveys ‘ _wow, you really are a dumbass_ ’ without using so many words. Instead, he says, “Dude, she’s a werewolf. Who was brought to you by a mythological bird who dropped her at your door. With a frickin’ name tag that has _our names_. Honestly, Derek, she’s not really the kind of baby you put up for adoption, okay? We just need to call Deaton so he can tell me how to send her back.”

“What makes you so sure he can do that?” Derek wonders. He doesn’t mean to sound pessimistic, really, it’s just that he wants to cover all the bases before doing anything rash.

“Because,” Stiles throws up his arms and then lets them drop to his sides, exasperated and exhausted. His voice lowers, so quiet that Derek might have missed it without his super hearing. “I think I’m the one that brought her here.”

Derek stands up. He looks over at the baby still asleep on the mattress. Her mouth hangs open and her nose crinkles up for a second and it’s an expression that seems so very _Stiles_ that Derek frowns, taking a step closer to the other boy. “What do you mean?”

Stiles sighs. He looks down, suddenly very interested in the carpet beneath them. “Look, you know how Deaton’s been working with me on my Spark thing. He’s been trying to teach me how to control my magic, how to concentrate it and direct it. He told me that my emotions can help me keep that focus…” His words trail off and he peeks up at Derek for just a second. “But they can also take control on their own.”

“So…” Derek’s brow furrows, watching Stiles with deep intent. “Your feelings influence your Spark’s ability. That makes sense, I think. But that doesn’t explain why you think Cecelia is here because of you.”

“Cesia,” Stiles corrects. He looks up at Derek again. “It’s Polish. It means moon.” His hands go back to his hair and he’s pulling at the strands once more, pacing the length of the small room. “Okay, well for the past few weeks, I’ve had these dreams. About _you_ .” Derek’s eyes widen a bit at that, but Stiles doesn’t give him a chance to speak. He doesn’t even look at Derek. “Not like wet dreams or anything,” He says quickly. He’s waving his arms around frantically, rambling and nervous because is he actually telling _Derek Hale_ that he dreams about them together? “I don’t do… _that_ . The whole sex thing. It’s called asexual, look it up if you want the details, but that’s not the point.” He flails again, this time accompanied with this half shrug. “The point is, they were like domestic dreams. And they were all the same. There was you and me and a little picket fence in the suburbs and it was all sickeningly romantic, but there was more. There was… _Her_.” Stiles stops, facing the bed. His arms fall to his sides and he sighs heavily. His heartbeat had been climbing at an alarming rate, but now it falls to a mostly even rhythm. Derek focuses on that, on the beat he can hear beneath Stiles’ ribs, because the rest of what he’s hearing might be too much to handle.

When Stiles speaks again, he’s still watching the little girl, but he sounds far away. Like he’s in another world. “When I was little, my mom told me about my name. My real one, the Polish one. And she told me about all of the names her and my dad came up with. If I had been a girl, Mom said, my name would have been Cesia. Because I was the light of her world and of all the stars in the sky, none of them shined as bright as the moon did.”

Stiles runs a hand through his hair, gentler this time, but Derek could tell he was still shaking. His voice was rough, like he was tired all of a sudden, worn out and ragged. “I always wanted adventure, you know? Then when I found out about werewolves and Sparks and banshees and kanimas…” He lets out a sad sounding chuckle. “Fuck, I just wanted a normal life. I wanted a little house with two-point-five kids, where I had a spouse and a nine-to-five job and human friends who didn’t know anything about the supernatural shit. And in my dreams, that’s what I had.”

Derek is reeling. He’s not sure what to say, if he should say anything at all. Part of him wants to cower in the shape of a ball and hope this all just goes away, but again Derek’s wolf seems to know exactly what to do. He takes a step forward, a hand reaching out to touch Stiles’ shoulder. The younger man’s body is stiff, but he hears a soft sigh of what sounds like relief. He takes this as assent and his hand slides down Stiles’ arm to where his fingers are twitching at his sides. Derek’s loosely tangle with his own digits, turning Stiles slowly so they’re facing, but Stiles keeps his eyes cast down.

“You don’t like sex,” Derek says. His voice comes out deep and slow and Stiles kind of feels like he could almost lean into it, let the sound wrap around him. “But your subconscious wanted a baby. So your magic spark fabricated a stork to deliver it.”

Stiles flinches. It sounds unbelievable even to his own ears, but it seems like the only plausible reason. So he simply nods once.

“Okay,” Derek says. And no, not okay. None of this is okay.

Stiles looks up to meet Derek’s bright green eyes, frowning. “Okay? That’s it? I’ve just magically delivered a spawn onto your balcony via birdmail and that’s all you’ve got to say? _Okay_?”

Derek’s brow furrows. He shakes his head. “No. I mean I’ve got an entire clusterfuck of questions and concerns going through my head right now. But I believe you. And I trust you. You don’t understand it anymore than I do. But we’ll figure it out.” He hesitates for a split second and then says, “I guess the only thing I can think of right now is, why? Why me? You could have made a magical baby with anyone. You said you wanted normal, but a werewolf baby is not normal.”

“It is to me,” Stiles admits. “Werewolves have been my norm since Sophomore year. I said I wanted human _friends_ , but the pack is my family. I couldn’t imagine having a life without you.” Stiles feels a blush ignite his cheeks. “ _All_ of you,” He adds.

But a small smile is already playing around Derek’s lips. “Well I don’t have a white picket fence and I can’t control who your friends are,” He smirks down at Stiles, squeezes the hand he still grasps. “And frankly, having a baby scares the living shit out of me right now. But I get it-- I wouldn’t want a life without you either.”

Stiles doesn’t even try to hide his blush this time, but Derek can hear the effect his words have when the younger boy’s heart races. Derek wants to attack Stiles and maybe lick that pulse right under his jaw, feel the racing heart on his tongue. But he stops short and bites down on his lip. “Is kissing okay?”

Stiles grins, nodding. “Yeah. Kissing is definitely okay.”

And Derek doesn’t need to be told twice before his lips capture Stiles’ in a slow kiss, just their mouths slotting together and brushing almost ghost-like against the other. But it’s enough, more than either man could have dreamed of. And Derek doesn’t feel Stiles’ pulse jump under his tongue, but he raises a hand to feel it race under his thumb. His own heart speeds up to match the pace.

When he pulls away, he leans his forehead against Stiles’. Then he follows his gaze to where Cesia has started squirming around on the bed.

“I don’t know how to send her back,” Stiles says, and he sounds almost sad.

But Derek shakes his head and goes to pick up the baby. She snuggles into his chest and he can’t help the smile that graces his lips. “I don’t think I want to,” He admits.

And Stiles knows it will be hard, maybe even impossible, but watching Derek sway with the little bundle of blanket, his eyes flashing red and her’s going gold in return, he can’t deny that he definitely wants to give it a shot.


	2. dos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Tata is daddy in Polish. That’s what Cesia calls Stiles.

Stiles is ready for this. He is  _ so  _ ready. He is a grown-ass man, okay? He can handle this. He’s excited, actually. Ecstatic. And he is going to prove Derek wrong and do it without crying. He can  _ do this,  _ dammit.

Stiles lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, clutching Cesia’s squirming body closer to his chest. “I can’t do this. I’m not ready.”

“Tata,” Cesia giggles. She’s only five, but she’s a werewolf and her strength shows when she wiggles free from Stiles’ grasp. She turns to face him with a somber expression she only could have inherited from Derek. “It will be okay,” She tells him seriously, and yes that is exactly the look Derek had given him before they’d come into the school. But it terrifies him because Cesia is ready for this, but Stiles is not. How can his only child be starting kindergarten already? The past five years flew by without even stopping to say hello, it seems.

From only a step behind, Derek places a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. It’s just enough pressure to keep him grounded, like he’s reminding Stiles that right now is not the time to freak out, panic, or cry. They need to be strong for Cesia. They can’t keep her home forever. Well…

“We should homeschool her,” Stiles decides. He stands up and gives Derek a determined nod. “She’s not ready for school.”

Derek rolls his eyes, but Stiles is rambling before he has the chance to argue.

“Dude, she’s not like these kids,” Stiles says. He keeps his voice low so the suburban moms dropping off kids around them don’t overhear. “What if she goes furry during storytime? Or flashes her eyes when some douchey kid steals her animal crackers? This is a bad idea.” Stiles grabs onto Cesia’s hand, making to drag her out of the colorful classroom, but Derek stops him.

“She’s not old enough to  _ go furry _ ,” Derek argues, and his eyebrows are doing that frowning thing they do, but his voice is soft. “Stiles, you’re right; She’s not like the other kids. And that’s exactly why she needs to be around them. She can’t live in fear because she’s different.”

Stiles frowns. He sets Derek with a challenging glare, which the older man matches. Eventually, Stiles sighs heavily and drops down to Cesia’s level again. She’s throws her arms around him, nuzzling her face into his neck. “Six hours,” He reminds her, but it’s more to reassure himself than his daughter. “I’ll be back at two-thirty to pick you up, okay?”

Cesia nods. She’s already bouncing excitedly. Derek kneels, too, and pulls her into his arms. “Be good,” He says. “Remember what we talked about. No flashing eyes, no growling.”

“I know, Daddy,” Cesia nods again. “Can I go play now?”

Derek smiles and releases her, letting her run off into the classroom. The couple watches as she puts her backpack away and then begins talking excitedly with another little girl.

Stiles doesn’t move until he feels Derek’s fingers intertwine with his own and he’s being tugged toward the door. When they reach the parking lot, Stiles sitting stiffly behind the steering wheel of his Jeep, he finally allows himself to breathe. And with that exhale of air comes forth a tidal wave of curse words he’d also been holding in.

When he’s finished, Derek is watching him with a miniscule amused smirk. “It’s gonna be okay,” He promises. He reaches out with one hand to touch Stiles’ knuckles, white from where they’re wrapped too tightly around the steering wheel. “She’s going to be fine.”

“I know that,” Stiles groans. He lets his head fall back against the headrest. His eyes close. His breathing has mostly evened out, but his chest still aches. “Logically. But as a dad, I’m entitled to freak out on her first day of school.” He turns his gaze on Derek, narrowing his eyes. “Why aren’t you freaking out?”

Derek just shrugs. “One of us has to stay calm. And it’s obviously not going to be you.”

That startles a laugh out of Stiles. But he manages to relax a little. He drops Derek off at the house before heading to the vet’s office. Deaton is in the back taking care of an injured poodle when Stiles arrives, so he lets himself behind the counter and fishes a book out of his bag, setting to work on his reading.

After Cesia’s “ _ birth _ ” a few years ago, Deaton gave Stiles a job as an assistant/janitor/secretary. It combined both his inherent need to hold a steady job and allowed the vet time to teach the young Spark about his abilities. Due to Derek’s inheritance after the Hale house fire, neither of them really needed a job, but it was more of a gesture to maintain Stiles’ sanity rather than for actual income, but Derek understood and readily played the role of stay-at-home-parent.  So far, it was an arrangement that worked out well for everyone.

Today, as Stiles waits for the vet, he skims the words in the ancient leather-bound mystical book Deaton gave him. It’s written like a handbook, but in old-English. Like a Shakespearean textbook. He understands something about runes and their various abilities, but he’s distracted. His mind keeps wandering back to Cesia. When he glances at the clock, he sees that over an hour has passed since he’s dropped her off at school. Was she making friends? Was she staying human? Maybe he should call and check on her. But then he remembers what Derek told him; She needs to do this, and they need to help her, not hinder her. As much as he wants to, Stiles cannot keep her a baby forever. She’s going to grow up to be a big strong werewolf, just like her daddy. But  _ damn _ . She’s getting so big already. Stiles isn’t sure his mental health can take her growing anymore. In just a few years, she’ll be able to wolf out. She’ll be going on moonlit runs with Derek while Stiles sits home alone and knits or crochetes or some shit. And a few years after that, Stiles will really lose his mind because then she’ll grow into the boyfriend phase. He doesn’t even want to imagine the first time his little girl brings home someone to meet the parents, and her first heartbreak, and then Stiles realizes that one day Cesia will probably meet someone she really truly loves and she’ll want to get married and have little werewolf babies of her own.

Stiles slams the book he’s barely reading and sets it down on the counter. He’s going to drive himself crazy. Luckily, Deaton finishes up with the poodle about that time before Stiles sends himself into a mental breakdown. And though his thoughts keep leading him back to his daughter, Stiles finds himself mostly able to focus on what Deaton is trying to tell him. That is, until Stiles is checking in an old lady’s cat for annual shots when he receives an ominous text from Derek that reads, “ _ HOME. NOW STILES.” _

Stiles’ first reaction to the text is absolute panic. He barely has time to tell Deaton that he’s leaving before he’s already out the door, jumping into the Jeep, and peeling out of the small parking lot. He makes it home in record time, his mind reeling with terror the entire time.

When Stiles throws the front door open, the house is eerily quiet. More panic sets in. Abandoning his bag heedlessly on the ground, Stiles yells, “Derek?!”

Derek rounds the corner in a second, his brow furrowed. “Shh,” He shushes the younger man. “I just got him to sleep. He wouldn’t stop screaming. Care to explain, Stiles?”

Stiles, completely rearing for panic mode, stops. “ _ He _ ? Who the hell is he? Who’s screaming? Where is Cesia?”

Now it’s Derek’s turn to look confused. “Cesia’s at school.  _ Luca  _ was screaming.”

Stiles gapes at him. “Who the fuck is Luca?”

And, as if on cue, the wailing starts. Derek groans dramatically, bringing both hands up to cover his ears. Stiles follows the sound on his own, wandering down the hallway to the living room. Bundled up in a tiny white blanket on the couch is the source of the sound. Stiles has flashbacks of that day five years ago when he’d walked into Derek’s apartment to find him cradling Cesia. It’s like deja vu or something, and Stiles hesitates. But when the baby doesn’t stop screaming, he has no choice but to walk forward and pick it up. It takes a few minutes of bouncing and hushing to make it quiet down again, but eventually the small child falls back into a peaceful sleep and Stiles can turn his wide-eyed gaze on Derek.

“Dude!” Stiles exclaims, but in a whisper this time. “Who the hell is this?!”

Derek frowns. “You should know. Your pet Stork delivered him an hour ago.”

And that… actually kind of makes sense. When Stiles was stressing out over Cesia growing up, his Spark must have assumed he needed another baby in his life. He grimaces at Derek. “I’m sorry,” He says. He can barely hear his own words, but he’s sure the werewolf hears him just fine. “I didn’t mean to, I swear. I just… I was kind of bummed because Cesia’s growing up and she’s starting school and sooner or later she’s going to be dating and wolfing out and maybe Sparking things up on her own and I guess I just thought it would be nice to have a baby around still. Somebody small enough to still need me.”

When Stiles looks up, Derek is standing right in front of him. He doesn’t look mad. He’s smiling. “Stiles, Cesia’s always going to need you. You’re her dad. And I get it, trust me. I’m worried about her growing up, too. And maybe it will be nice to have another baby around the house again.”

Stiles smiles now, too. He looks down at the little person cradled in his arms. “So his name is Luca? Is he a wolf?”

Derek nods. “Yeah, he is. He flashed his eyes at me when I picked up him, and then he just started screaming.” He chuckles.

“And you’re not mad that I accidentally Sparked up another kid?” Stiles asks warily.

Releasing a heavy sigh, Derek eventually shakes his head. “Not mad,” He admits. “But I think we should discuss the baby-making from now on, before you decide to Spark up more offsprings. It should be a mutual agreement. I think I’m sick of babies just showing up on the lawn, and it might start to scare the neighbors if the giant childbearing pelican becomes a regular thing.”

Stiles laughs and leans his head forward to rest it on Derek’s shoulder. He smiles, mostly to himself, when he says, “Okay, Sourwolf. Deal.”


	3. trzy

Saturday was always a busy day. Cesia had followed in Stiles’ footsteps and joined the kids junior lacrosse team as soon as she hit the age requirement when she turned seven. She was great at it right away, better than Stiles ever was, and he only partially blames the werewolf genes she got from Derek for that. Luca, at three, was just as rambunctious as Stiles was at that age and he’d even gotten to the point where he refused to take naps during the day.

And so every Saturday, they had a routine. Cesia would usually wake up first (she was a morning person. Stiles blamed Derek for that, since Derek was usually awake shortly after.) She would wake Stiles and Derek, demand they feed her, and then go turn on Power Rangers and wait patiently for her breakfast. Stiles had a habit of burning pancakes, so it was Derek’s job to make breakfast while Stiles woke up Luca and got him dressed for the day.

After breakfast, which usually ended in another change of clothes for Luca and sticky syrup fingers for Cesia, Stiles and Derek would put the kids in front of the TV again and take their turn to get dressed.

Cesia’s lacrosse practice started at ten AM and Stiles would stay, conversing with other parents and cheering his daughter along for the entire ninety minutes. Derek would take this time to play with Luca; They had him on a waiting list for preschool and he was smart but, just like Stiles, he got distracted easily. He would wander off and play with blocks in favor of sitting and learning his numbers. It took awhile, but eventually they discovered a compromise-- Derek drew numbers on the blocks and hid them in different places. Then he would help Luca find them and they’d stack them in the right order. When they had a tower, Luca would kick it down and giggle and then they’d do it all over again. They’d even started doing the alphabet on separate blocks and Luca was learning how to spell his name.

When Stiles and Cesia got home from practice, they would all make lunch. Cesia and Luca were at the ages where they wanted to help with everything and Stiles and Derek couldn’t really find the heart to tell them no. Normal parents would worry about standing a eight-year-old up on a chair at the stove, flipping grilled cheese, but Cesia was a werewolf and the few minor burns she got only lasted about three seconds before disappearing. The first time it happened, Stiles panicked and practically wrapped her whole hand in medical tape, even when Cesia kept telling him it didn’t actually hurt.

When they’re finished with lunch, Stiles and Derek pile the kids into the car and go grocery shopping. Sometimes they’ll run into neighbors who will stop and try to hold insignificant conversations with them and while the small talk irritates Derek, Stiles finds that he rather enjoys those moments. It’s nice to have humans to talk to about the weather or such. Just for a few minutes, Stiles can pretend that he’s not pushing two werewolf children around in a shopping cart. Derek understands this, so in these moments, he smiles and nods and makes faces at Luca to keep him entertained.

Shopping usually takes awhile because the three wolves in the family eat a lot. They always find things to randomly throw into the cart (including Derek, who insists that Poptarts are indeed a provision. Stiles puts them back on the shelf when he’s not looking, but then feels guilty and buys two boxes to make up for it.)

This Saturday is no different than any other. When they get home from shopping, Cesia runs upstairs to play. Stiles sets Luca up at the table with a bowl of Cheerios and turns to help put groceries away. Within five minutes, Luca has managed to dump the entire bowl of cereal onto the floor. Derek moves to clean it up, but his son holds up a chubby little hand and says, “I got it,” and plops his butt down on the linoleum to pick up one piece at a time to return to the bowl.

After putting a few boxes into the pantry, Stiles turns just in time to catch a glimpse of white feathers outside the kitchen window, gone so fast he thinks he might have imagined it. But then he hears a dull thud as something hits the glass of the sliding door. Luca is on his feet in seconds, waddling toward the back door to press his face against the glass. “Big Bird!” He squeals in delight. “Daddy! Tata! It’s Big Bird!”

Stiles and Derek exchange an uncertain look and then move to Luca’s side. Scooping him into his arms, Stiles looks out into the backyard. He sees grass and the chain link fence and the swing set, but nothing else. “Hey, buddy,” He bounces Luca on his hip. “What did you see?”

“Big Bird!” Luca screams again. “Just like on Sesame Street!”

“Alright…” Stiles sets Luca back down on the ground. “Why don’t you go play while Daddy and I finish putting groceries away?”

Luca points out to the backyard. Stiles knows what the kid is asking, even without words. He nods. “Stay in the yard where we can see you.”

Before Luca can even make it outside, the doorbell is ringing. Whoever is on the other side must be impatient because only a second later, it’s accompanied by a pounding knock. Stiles heads down the hallway to the front door.

Standing on his doorstep is Melanie. She’s a middle-aged, typical suburban mom who lives a few houses down. They’ve spoken a few times, mostly at neighborhood barbeques or when Cesia was going door-to-door selling chocolate bars to raise money for the lacrosse team. Now, the older woman is watching Stiles with wide blue eyes.

“Hey, Mel,” Stiles says uncertainly. “What’s up?”

“I just saw the darnedest thing,” She gasps. Her eyes shift up and she squints at the sky. “I could have sworn I just saw a bird as big as a car flying around near here!”

Stiles freezes. From behind him in the house, he hears Derek’s shout. “Stiles! What the hell did you do!?”

Stiles leans against the doorframe. “That’s so weird,” He says to Melanie. “Are you sure that’s what you saw? I mean, birds don’t usually get that big. Not in the suburbs at least. Canada, maybe. Moose birds. Those are a thing, right?”

Melanie’s expression falters and she frowns. “I could have sworn that’s what I saw.”

“Maybe it was a kite,” Stiles shrugs. “Or one of those airplane toys the kids are always flying around.”

Melanie nods slowly. “Yes, that’s probably it.” She looks ready to leave again, now that her gossip has been debunked, but a sudden crying comes from inside the house. And even to untrained ears, that sound obviously does not belong to a toddler. “Stiles, what is that noise?” Mel asks, but the curve of her lips as they twitch into a smile says she already knows. “Is that a baby? Who is that?”

Before he can answer, Derek is coming down the hall. There’s a green and yellow striped blanket cradled in his arms. The crying has faded into little huffs of air. Derek smiles tightly. “Yeah, Stiles. Who is this?”

Stiles opens his mouth to say… something. His mind short circuits and he stares blankly at Derek, then the baby. Another frickin’ baby! He doesn’t have to ask to know Derek found the child in the backyard. Another personal delivery from the Stork. Instead, he reaches out and takes the bundle from Derek. The face is small and scrunched up, brown hair sprouting like peach fuzz on the top of their head. Their eyes are dark and he almost expects them to flash gold at him, but nothing happens.

“We haven’t told anyone. It was… quite a surprise to all of us, actually,” Derek is saying. He’s talking to Melanie, who watches the baby in wonder. Typical suburban mom. She probably wants to coo at the child for a few hours and then go home and tell her husband she wants another baby. “But it looks like we’re adopting another baby. Isn’t that right, Stiles?”

Stiles still can’t manage words, but he smiles and nods dumbly. How did this happen? Stiles has been controlling his Spark for years, focused really hard on it after Luca’s arrival. He hasn’t been through any emotional turmoil lately that would cause another Stork delivery. So how the hell is this possible?

Stiles barely notices Melanie wandering off or Derek shutting the door, but suddenly he’s back in the living room, bouncing his newborn (new-flown?) in his arms. He would hold his hands up in surrender if he wasn’t holding the kid. His eyes widen at Derek. “I didn’t do it!” He shouts.

Derek’s eyes narrow, clearly not believing him. “Well I certainly didn’t order her.”

“I swear,” Stiles says. “It wasn’t me.”

“Then how did she get here?” Derek wonders. “Did you, like, subscribe to Stork Weekly or something? Can you cancel your subscription please? We don’t need a new child arriving every three to five years.”

Stiles is frowning. “We’re keeping her, right?”

Derek rolls his eyes, like it’s the stupidest question he’s ever heard. “Of course we are. But I thought he agreed on this, Stiles. You said we would talk about it. If you wanted another baby, a  _ human  _ one, you should have just told me.”

“Dude, I didn’t do this!” And then his words register and Stiles looks down at the baby again. “She’s human?” That’s… unexpected. Well, this whole scenario wasn’t really planned, but this is the first human child he’s Sparked up. He sighs. “Look, I don’t know how it happened. Maybe I should talk to Deaton, see if he knows anything that could help.” Stiles hands the baby over to Derek. “Did you check her diaper? What’s her name?”

Derek opens his mouth, but the voice that echoes through the room isn’t his. “Tally!”

Stiles spins around so fast he almost gets whiplash. His oldest daughter is standing in the doorway, beaming at the newest addition to their family. “Tally?” He repeats, then looks to Derek for confirmation. “Tally?”

Derek is nodding slowly. “The diaper says Talia Stilinski-Hale.”

“Your mom,” Stiles realizes. “She’s named after your mom.”

He watches as Cesia approaches Derek, standing up on the tips of her toes to look down at the baby’s face. Talia (or Tally?) is asleep and Cesia smiles, lifting a finger to touch the chubby cheek. Then she looks behind her shoulder and shouts, “Luca! Come look at our new baby sister!”

Talia only squirms. Luca races into the room only seconds later, barrelling into Derek’s legs. He reaches up for the bundled blanket. “I wanna see!”

Derek moves to the couch, sitting down. Luca scrambles onto the cushion next to him and Derek carefully places Talia in his waiting arms. Going to Cesia’s side, Stiles kneels. “Hey,” He tugs on her sleeve to pull her attention away from her new sister. Reluctantly, Cesia meets his gaze. “How did you know her name?”

Cesia glances back to the baby. “It was Daddy’s mom. Talia. Daddy tells me and Luca stories about what she was like. Before the fire. He shows us pictures of her and his sisters and uncles. But he especially likes to talk about his mom. He loves her a whole lot, even if she died a long time ago.”

Stiles is nodding slowly. “But you called the baby Tally. How did you know that was her name?”

She rolls her eyes. “Because that’s what I wished for, Tata.”

Stiles looks up, exchanges a look with Derek. “What do you mean, what you wished for?” Derek wonders.

Cesia sighs heavily. “I wished for her,” She says in an exasperated voice. “Just like Tata did with me and Luca. I wished really hard for a baby sister and the stork brought her to us!” She beams.

Another uncertain look is shared between Stiles and Derek. Stiles isn’t sure how to feel. Part of him is freaking out because his eight-year-old daughter is sparking up siblings without knowledge or consideration of consequences, but another part of him is  _ so fucking proud he could cry. _

Eventually it’s Derek that takes the lead, much to Stiles’ content. Derek sits on the floor next to Stiles, legs crossed. “Sweetie, you know what we say about the werewolf thing,” He says softly. He’s still absently bouncing Tally in his arms. Luca is scrambling to fit himself between his dads. Stiles pulls him into his lap. Stiles’ chest aches with how sickeningly domestic all this is. Derek is still talking. “You can’t work on your shifting without permission and supervision, right?” Cesia nods. “Well the same rules apply to your Spark. You can’t spark things up without Tata’s permission. We need to know how you’re using your magic and when. Tata needs to be there with you because your Spark can be dangerous to you or other people, especially since you don’t know how to control it like Tata can.”

Cesia looks intently at her hands. A frown tugs down on her lips. An overall heartbreaking image of remorse. “Am I in trouble?” She asks in a small voice.

Stiles reaches out and pulls her over to sit next to them. “No, you’re not in trouble. But I don’t want you Sparking up anything else, especially more siblings. That’s a decision for Daddy and I to make.”

Cesia grins expectantly. “But we can keep Tally, right? I wanted a sister because Luca is bad at playing tea party.”

Luca, of course, resents that and the kids begin bickering. Derek chuckles, dropping his forehead onto Stiles’ shoulder. “I really want to be included in any further decisions regarding the baby-making around here.”

Stiles bites back a smile. “Further decisions. Does that mean you think we should have more?”

Derek is silent for awhile, contemplating. “Yes,” He finally says. Then, “But I think we might need a bigger place first.”

Stiles nods slowly. “Did you have anything particular in mind?”

“I was thinking maybe we could start renovating the old Hale house.” Derek looks up to meet Stiles’ eyes, wide and sincere. “The preserve would be good for the kids, especially now that Cesia’s started shifting. And the house has a lot of memories.”

“Some of those memories are bad ones,” Stiles adds. He doesn’t want to sound like a pessimist, but he needs to make sure this is something Derek really wants. Derek’s entire family was killed in that house when he was barely even a teenager. Moving back could trigger some lingering trauma.

“I know,” Derek says. There’s a small smile on his lips. “But I think we could rebuild the house and make new memories. Our family. All of us together.”

Stiles captures Derek’s lips in a soft kiss. He’s grinning when he pulls back a bit, then nods. “I think it’s going to be perfect.” And as long as he’s got Derek and the kids, Stiles truly believes that.


End file.
